


Sacrifice

by nastally



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Conversations, Comedy, Human Sacrifice, I Don't Even Know, Inspired by Monty Python, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Switching, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastally/pseuds/nastally
Summary: Roger is about to be sacrificed to the god his people worship. Nothing turns out as expected.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Comments: 32
Kudos: 75
Collections: Queen Must Fuck Weekend





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> I... I don't even know what this is, I'll be honest. XD I wrote Maylor because it made sense with the idea I had. It's kind of trippy. Don't even try to understand it or take it seriously! Just a bit of fun for Must Fuck Weekend 2020.
> 
> The prompt was "I am your God, have sex with me to show your devotion".
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

\- - - 

Roger sighed, eyeing the birds of prey circling in the sky above him suspiciously. 

It was only fair, _they'd_ been eyeing him with great interest for hours. 

He could barely feel his arms anymore. Although he certainly felt how much his skin was burning after hours in the afternoon sun, exposed to the elements in nothing but the flimsy, virginal white toga which only covered a bit of his chest, draped over one shoulder. He would have given anything to crack his stiff back. Why couldn't they have tied him to a comfortable chair? Or a bed? Why hadn't anyone ever thought of that? Why was he made to suffer all the way leading up to his demise? That just seemed unnecessarily cruel. 

While Roger contemplated the feasibility of transporting a bed up to the mountaintop, he didn't immediately notice the shifting cloud formation in the sky above him. White fluffy clouds, bunching together to create what was almost a mirror image of the sacrificial arc he was tied to, forming a large doorway of sorts. It was only when tendrils of cloud began to move swiftly, knitting a white, fluffy staircase, that Roger turned to look, eyes widening. He'd cycled through panic, fear, hopelessness and despair in the last few hours and had become so weary of it all that only a bitter sense of resignation had remained, but at the sight of the magically forming staircase his heart rate picked up again. Roger swallowed, looking on as the misty white staircase stretched and grew until it touched down just a few feet away from him. His eyes followed it back up, terror rising in his throat when the grim inevitability of his situation once again became very real and, more so, immediate. It was alright, he tried to tell himself. He’d had a good eighteen years. But it wasn’t alright. It wasn’t alright at all, he didn’t want to die like a sacrificial lamp on the altar! He didn’t want to die at all!

A bright light emanated from the cloud arc in the sky, a tall, dark silhouetted against it, and Roger started desperately pulling at the ropes again which bound his wrists and ankles, even though he knew it was in vain. Absolutely petrified as he was of whatever might come next, what gruesome death awaited him at the hands of a bloodthirsty deity, he still couldn’t look away in amazement as the robed figure began to descend the stairs. No one had ever beheld the _Giver of Life_ and lived to tell the tale, and a part of him was fascinated and curious even in the face of certain death. Slowly, the arc in the sky dissolved and the light faded, no longer blinding him, and Roger beheld the strangest sight of all - a perfectly human-looking man. He stared, mouth hanging open. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, really. Wings? Three eyes? Something completely otherworldly? What he definitely hadn’t expected was a tall, skinny chap who looked barely older than himself, wearing dark, night-sky-blue robes. For one, _everyone_ knew that the _Giver of Life_ was neither man nor woman nor human creature. Or so he had always been told, by his parents, and grandparents, and uncles and aunts and the creepy old wise woman who always pinched his cheeks (above the collar and sometimes below the belt, depending what she could get her hands on). 

Roger blinked dumbly at the young man descending the - very long - staircase, so confused and taken off guard by the appearance of the deity before him that he quite forgot to be afraid for a moment. The fact that it was taking a good couple of minutes for this really rather underwhelming godly apparition to descend the entirety of the cloud staircase further diminished the dramatic effect. 

That was one impractically long staircase. Roger sighed, patiently awaiting his demise. He peered over at the sun which had just disappeared behind the horizon, scrunching his face up. His nose was itchy, which was very annoying when one was tied to an arc spread-eagle. He tried to rub it against his arm with moderate success. Damn, his shoulders were in agony.

Although he supposed that didn't matter now, seeing as he was minutes away from death. Roger looked up at the approaching figure again. Now that he had come much closer, there _was_ something supernatural about the god slowly approaching. His skin was so pale it seemed to emit a faint glow as the sun set behind the mountains and dusk fell. His impressive shock of tight, brown curls shimmered as golden as the thin circlet gracing his head.

Finally, the tall man flowed down the end of the staircase, which had been disappearing behind him in time with his steps, and arrived on solid ground. As the god slowly moved towards him, Roger tried to draw back instinctively, only to be foiled by the ropes binding him. He swallowed, glancing up at the very annoyingly unyielding sacrificial arc above him before he returned his eyes to the _Giver of Life_ and immediately lowered his gaze, bowing his head slightly. Appearances could be very deceiving, and it was probably advisable to show a god respect, even when he had come to him in the form of a gangly youth who looked like a strong bout of wind might topple him over.

“Sorry about that,” said the god, quite casually, his voice pleasant and mild.

What. Roger frowned and looked up in surprise. The tall man across from him grimaced apologetically, indicating the staircase behind him, the remains of which were currently still dissolving into thin air. 

“It’s an awfully long way down, I know. I’m really not trying to be dramatic, it’s only that the clouds do not generally hang any lower, and- well, you see- with the thunderous clouds, which do,” he glanced up, “well, for one, it’s a rather lovely day and weather isn’t _my_ speciality- I would hate to ask a favour just for this occasion,” he chuckled awkwardly, “it seems a little moot. And even then, my feet would get quite wet if I did,” he lamented and hummed with a shake of the head, glancing down at his bare feet. “There really isn’t… it isn’t ideal, I know.”

“Um,” Roger stared at him, utterly confounded by this speech. 

“Oh!” The god’s eyebrows rose up. He really looked quite distraught for a moment. “Oh, I’m so sorry, listen to me babbling away… I always do this, you must forgive me.” He ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath. “Right. Let’s start fresh, shall we?”

“Uh…” said Roger.

“Mortal!” the god proclaimed grandly and quite suddenly, throwing his arms out to the sides and startling his sacrificial victim. “I am the Ancient, the Immortal, the Unnamed! For by many names has your kind known me, but to you and your people I am known as the Giver of Life. I hereby accept the offering of a virginal sacrifice and grant your people my favour for the years to come. In my name shall you prosper and thrive-” he paused for a moment, hands hovering uncertainly as he met Roger’s eyes, “I mean, not _you_ , of course- understandably- but your people. Because you, I’m afraid…”

“Right,” Roger mumbled, “no, I know. I’m… I’m being sacrificed, so-”

“Quite,” The Ancient and Immortal inclined his head, folding his hands in front of his chest. “Thank you for understanding, I must say you’re making this quite easy. Usually there can be,” He made a face. “a fair bit of wailing and screaming. It's very distressing.”

Roger suddenly wondered if there was something wrong with him because he wasn’t wailing or screaming. 

“Well, it’s not like I _want_ to die,” he retorted, defensively.

“Yes… yes, I understand.” The Giver of Life looked quite uncomfortable, at that. “I wish there was another way, really, I do. It is a pity...”

“So let me live!” Roger exclaimed, still utterly bewildered by the conversation he was having but happily latching on to a glimmer of hope. “Can’t you just let me live?”

“Ah.” The god held up a long index finger, looking every bit like a teacher about to impart great wisdom to his young student. “Unfortunately, young mortal, I cannot do that. You see, it isn’t my decision to make. The rules of the universe are ancient and immalleable. Once every twenty-five years, I must receive-”

“Yes, yes,” Roger cut in, a little rudely. “A virginal sacrifice given in good will by those who serve the Giver of Life, to ensure prosperity and good fortune for the generation to come.” He rattled it off and the god standing before him nodded along, listening with an oddly sympathetic expression. 

"Quite right," he said with a regretful sigh. 

For a moment neither of them said anything. 

"Right…" The god huffed out a breath between his lips. "Well-" 

"Er, sorry if I’m getting this wrong, but…” Roger interrupted again, glancing around. “You’re the one, er… taking my life? And there’s not a soul around, so why,” he pleaded, “why can’t you just let me go? I could run away and disappear, I wouldn’t tell a soul, I promise. I swear!”

The disturbingly human-shaped immortal being gazed at him with infuriatingly kind eyes that made Roger want to hold on to the newfound hope that he could somehow talk his way out of this. 

“It will be my doing, yes.” The curly-haired young man nodded, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “But it isn’t as simple as that, mortal-” He broke off, meeting Roger’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, I feel we should perhaps familiarise ourselves a little, after all, this is a bit of an intimate affair. What is your name?”

“...Roger,” said Roger.

“Well, Roger,” the Giver of Life gave him a friendly smile, inclining his head, “Very good to meet you. You may call me Brian.”

Roger blinked. “Come again?”

"Brian," said the Giver of- _Brian_ , smiling kindly. 

"... Brian?" 

“Yes.”

“You want me to call you Brian?”

The god looked a little affronted. “Yes. And what is wrong with that, pray tell? I happen to quite like it as far as mortal names go.”

“Er, yes,” Roger backpedaled, “It’s a… a splendid name, really. Sorry… Brian, didn’t mean to tread on your toes,” he tried, amicably, and smiled a strained smile, given that his arms and shoulders were in absolute agony. It was only that which had him convinced that he hadn’t actually passed out, and all of this was some bizarre hallucination. Because whatever he had dreaded, it hadn’t been a casual chat with a self-conscious ancient god called _Brian_. 

“Oh, gosh, I can’t remember what I was saying at all now.” Brian was rubbing his chin thoughtfully, gazing out towards the horizon where the sun had just set.

“Don’t kill me?” Roger reminded him, a little weakly, the utter ridiculousness of it all and the pain slowly but surely getting to him. “Please, I beg you… Isn’t there another way?”

“Right, yes.” Brian’s eyes snapped back to him, the apologetic expression returning to his face. “I mean, no. There isn’t, I'm afraid. You see it isn’t me who will be taking your life, it sort of just…” He waved his long fingers. “...happens.”

"Oh," Roger gave him a helpless frown. "But… how?" 

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Well. At the end of… it,” Brian gesticulated, heavily indicating something, Roger wasn't sure what, “you will perish. But don’t worry,” he added quickly, “I gather it’s a pleasant way to go.”

“Wait.” Roger gave him a wary look. “At the end of what?”

Brian pressed his palms together, leaning his fingers against his lips, and gave him a long look. “Now,” he said slowly, “you do know I am the Giver of Life.”

Roger stared back at him, still clueless.

“The god of virility and fertility?” Brian added, raising his eyebrows.

Roger was still staring. 

Brian rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Oh, for goodness sake. I know there are rumours down there," he pointed towards the valley, and then made a sweeping gesture to their surroundings, "about what happens _up here_." 

“No, no.” Roger’s insides lurched, a horrible realisation dawning on him. He shook his head, half confused and half frightened. “But… that… well, I thought… I _did_ think, maybe… but- but you’re a _man_.”

“Look,” Brian sighed, gesturing down at himself. “This is the shape I have taken tonight because of you, Roger. I am nor man, nor woman, nor any mortal being. But in order to receive the sacrifice, I must bear a human form.”

“Right.” Roger licked his lips, trying to understand. “But…”

As the disappearance of the last glimmer of sun left the sky dark and filled with a mass of stars, Brian’s eyes seemed to gleam like twinkling stars themselves, as he tilted his head to the side, looking at Roger intently. “You’re not a virgin.” He said quietly. “Are you, Roger.”

It felt as if he was gazing straight into his soul and even though Roger had sworn his life on a lie only this very morning, he found himself entirely unable to speak anything but the truth now. “...No.”

Well, he almost was. A couple - five, alright, it was five - rolls in the hay (quite literally, the hay barn was a marvellous hideout) with the shoemarker’s daughter; it hadn’t seemed like such a big lie. And everyone had believed it, too.

“Why did you lie?”

“My sister.” Roger lowered his eyes. “She was selected and I… I couldn’t let that happen.”

“So you volunteered.” Brian said softly, and Roger was taken aback by how close his voice sounded. He raised his head back up and found himself only inches away from Brian’s curious, starlight eyes, studying him intently.

“Yeah…” A strange feeling overcame him. At first, he thought it was a scent. A strong, unidentifiable but infinitely pleasant scent which seemed to surround the god who was now standing so close to him. But it wasn’t that, it was an aura of intoxicating energy that relaxed him and raised the small hairs all over his body at the same time. Fingers touched his chin, tilting it up slightly.

“How admirable of you.”

“I couldn’t let her die…” Roger mumbled, mesmerised by the human yet distinctly otherworldly face of the other man. Because all of a sudden, he seemed to notice how remarkably beautiful it was. He was scrambling to gather his thoughts, to remember what had just been said. Of course, Clare… couldn’t let them sacrifice Clare. Anything but that. But he had lied… oh. “Wait, I… so since I’m not a virgin, what… what does that mean?”

“Hmm,” Releasing his chin, Brian stepped back. Roger shuddered, immediately much more keenly aware of the cooling night air and the pain in his shoulders. His eyes followed Brian while he walked over to one of the pillars of the sacrificial arc, laying a hand on the old, weathered stone as he rounded it. “You see, the thing is this. You aren’t… and you are.”

Brian had come up behind him, laying his hands on Roger’s shoulders, the touch was feather-light but immediately relieved his pain, relaxing his muscles like the soothing waters of a hot spring. Roger audibly sighed with relief, relishing the wonderful warmth radiating from Brian’s hands into his sore body. His head dropped to the side, strands of hair falling into his face. 

“Do you understand now?” That melodious voice was close to his ear now, and his thoughts were dissolving into a pleasant, grey haze. “Do you understand why I’ve taken this form?”

“Uh-huh,” Roger replied, automatically, feeling like he might have agreed to just about anything in that moment. But then, as his mind clutched at the clarity which was escaping him, Brian’s words sank in and his insides went into freefall. “Wait, no-” In time with his words, and the realisation which had come with them, Brian slid his arms around him from behind and pressed himself flush against him. A new wave of panic broke through the dizzying, warm mist in Roger’s head. “No, I- please… no...”

His protestations grew weaker as long fingers stroked over his torso, the touch like ice and fire all at once. It left him breathless, his throat dry. Even so, Brian’s mere presence so close to him was becoming a little easier to bear, a little less overwhelming to the senses as he was becoming used to it. All the while, impossibly tantalising hands continued to roam his body and lips descended onto his exposed neck, drawing a moan from his throat.

“You’re not bad at this," Roger mumbled, caught between light-headedness and dread.

A soft chuckle tickled his skin. “I _am_ the goddess of fertility.”

"Uh," Roger cracked his eyes open, peering into the vast, moonlit dark ahead of him. "Did you just say goddess?”

“Yes," Brian replied simply, and kissed a trail down his shoulder, the tip of his finger meanwhile honing in on a nipple. "I thought it might make you feel more at ease if I implied I was female," he explained and Roger released a shuddering breath. "Does it?”

“Eh… no, that just makes it weirder- ahh!" Brian had pinched his nipple, rolling it between his fingers, and Roger didn't think he'd ever felt so unbearably sensitive to anyone's touch before. "You're gonna fuck me, aren't you." 

The intoxication he felt had loosened his tongue.

"A very crude way of putting it. But yes," Brian sighed, and simultaneously pressed his hips a little closer, making Roger frightfully aware of the fact that whatever he was, right now, he was definitely in fully functional human form.

"And then," Roger gasped out the words, because at that moment one of Brian's hands hitched up his tunic and slipped underneath it. 

“You perish.” Brian's voice was a calm whisper. "Blissfully."

“Right." Roger's voice on the other hand came out as more of a squeak and he swallowed, biting back a moan when long fingers wrapped around him. "Great, that’s… that’s just great.” Fear of death and arousal was an odd mixture. "And there's ahh-absolutely nothing I can-nghh do?" 

Those heavenly lips had returned to his ear, teeth teasing at his earlobe. “I must say… Do you always talk so much during love-making?”

“Oohhh-only when it’s about to, nhh- kill me." How he was still forming sentences, Roger wasn't entirely sure. "And… you haven’t answered my quesTION!”

The fingers on his prick had tightened around the head, moving so expertly and delightfully that Roger immediately all but forgot the question he had asked in the first place. Something about not being fucked to death? Even though he was rather starting to agree with Brian that maybe it wasn't the absolute worst way to go. 

“Again, the answer is no, I’m dreadfully sorry," Brian whispered against his ear, and raised the hand which wasn't currently making Roger's eyes roll back in his head. "There is nothing the mortals before you haven't attempted to change their fate, but it cannot be changed."

With a click of his fingers, the ropes suddenly gave way, as did Roger's wobbly knees. He found himself on the ground, on all fours, his head spinning as he dropped it down between his shoulders. Those tingling, scorching fingers were all over him, exposing his bare body, administering tantalising caresses to the tops of his thighs, his arse, his lower back. He lifted his head and peered at the edge of the cliff in front of him, a deadly drop ahead. Even if his limbs hadn't felt like jelly, barely supporting him, it wasn't as though there was anywhere he could escape to. This was happening then. Roger tried to find peace with that thought and flinched when one of the hands stroking him so deliciously dipped between his buttocks. 

"It's alright," Brian's calm voice soothed, "I won't do you harm, I promise. You'll feel nothing but ecstasy."

"Easy for you to say," Roger didn't like the sound of his own voice, high-pitched and trembling, "Anyone ever done that to you?" 

"Not… quite," said Brian hesitantly, sounding a little surprised at himself, while his fingers circled Roger's entrance, "I have taken a female form many times, however." 

"Not sure that's really the same," Roger croaked, and heard what sounded like a cork being removed from a bottle neck. 

There was a new, peculiar sensation, something dripping down onto his skin just above his crack and flowing down into it, the probing fingers sliding over the tight ring of muscle, spreading it smoothly. Roger's jaw hung slack. Whatever it was felt like- well, it was completely indescribable, really- the most delightful, tingling wamth, relaxing his muscles so thoroughly and immediately that it coaxed a needy whine from his throat. And then there was heavenly pressure inside him, filling him, and he collapsed onto his elbows even while pushing back on Brian's fingers. This was certainly very new and different. It took him a while before his tongue could form words again. 

"Holy…! You, ahh… you're missing out," he informed the man- god- _being_ behind him and made a sound somewhere between a breathy laugh and a moan, feeling completely delirious.

Brian laughed, too, and curled his long fingers inside him, making him yelp. 

"I'm serious!" Roger gasped, now very definitely rocking himself back against the hand pleasuring him in a steady rhythm. "Can't believe you've never… ohhh-" 

"No one has ever offered." 

Roger heard the words, but they were drowned out by the sensation of being stretched further, another finger twisting inside him. Only after a moment or two did the words sink in, taking root inside his mind. And there, amidst the haze, a tiny shred of clarity broke through like a beam of sunlight through the clouds, a connection made. A wild, desperate idea forming as Brian's words echoed in his head. _There is nothing the mortals before you haven't attempted… No one has ever offered…_

"Wait," Roger gasped, forcing himself to still his movements and open his eyes, trying to focus on the words as they rolled over his lips even as he thought them. "I'm offering!" 

Brian hesitated, too. Just for a moment. And following instinct more than any rational thought, Roger threw himself at that moment of opportunity. 

"Please, before I die… Can't I… will you let me, uhh…" It was remarkably hard to focus with a pair of fingers still lazily moving in and out of him. That and the fact that he was high as a kite on some sort of godly aphrodisiac, that also wasn't helping. Or perhaps it was? "Please," he breathed, and lifted himself up onto wobbly arms. Then raised himself up straight, slinging one arm behind himself, around Brian's neck. The fingers withdrew, a part of him missing the sensation immediately. Luckily he was too loopy to be embarrassed or have second thoughts about that fact. Roger turned himself around and embraced Brian so enthusiastically that he toppled them both over onto the dusty ground. 

"This is most unusual," Brian commented, regarding him with a great interest. 

"Is it against the rules of the universe?" Roger asked, only half aware that one of his hands was already sliding up Brian's leg, underneath his robes. 

"I… suppose not," Brian admitted, raising his eyebrows. His lips parted when Roger's fingers dug into his hips. Roger fell into those lips, delicate and beautifully shaped and inviting. Brian tasted like sunrise and spring meadows, and the last lucid parts of Roger's mind glazed over with the burning desire the immortal deity's aura had induced, swallowing him whole. 

Everything became a blur, a whirlwind of sensations. 

Pale skin that felt like sunkissed silk, impossibly smooth and shimmering in the darkness like diamond dust. 

Brian retrieving a vial from the folds of his robes, Roger's fingertips tingling with the fragrant oil contained within. 

_Drops of ecstasy…_

And heavenly heat. Surrounding him. Taking him in. Drowning him as he glimpsed the infinity of the universe in those starlight eyes, gazing up at him in wonder. Squeezing shut when the lithe body beneath him convulsed, tense limbs wrapped around. 

Too much. Too tight. 

Roger came so hard he nearly passed out, crying out with delight into the night, buried inside the immortal being in the shape of a man, one hand still around Brian's prick.

He blinked his eyes open after what felt like an eternity in heaven, focusing on his own hand, resting on Brian's shoulder. There was a glimmer to his skin, almost unnoticeable at first but growing more luminous with every moment. 

"What's happening to me?" His own voice sounded very distant, somehow. Echoing in the vastness of the universe. He lifted his head, meeting eyes that twinkled with amazement. "Am I dying?" 

"No," Brian murmured, lifting a hand to his cheek, his voice full of reverence. "Quite the opposite, I believe." 

"Oh," breathed Roger, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth even as the world around them faded. "Then what?" 

"I can't say," Brian's voice whispered, echoing in the infinite dark, "No one has ever been able to predict a miracle." 

\- - -

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me, I have no explanations. Lmao It is what it is.


End file.
